iAm Not Who You Think
by Fball
Summary: Freddie isn't the techie nerd boy that everyone thinks. It's actually a carefully played facade to keep his past in the past. But when his past begins to threaten his friends, he has to show them who he really is in order to keep them alive. SEDDIE.
1. Chapter 1

**Entry in Freddie's Person Journal, Found Under His Bed With An Empty 'Hustler' Magazine Around It**

**January 12****th****, 2009**

_Ok, just a little note to self: If in the future you (me) find this Hustler under your bed, it isn't porn. You (I) found the magazine in the park, ripped out all the pages except the two covers, and slid the notebook in between so that if anyone found it, they would only think that I'm a sex pervert. This little notebook could get you (me) in a lot of trouble for all the shit that happened two years ago, but I need to vent it out. I fucking need to, otherwise I'll go insane and just start that shit all over again. _

_My favorite pill is Vicadin, my favorite drink is straight vodka, and my favorite part drug would be a tie with ecstasy and coke. My favorite move that a stripper does is the bump and grind, my favorite position is…well…any. My favorite handgun would be the Glock .45 semi that a guy downtown named Jimmy had converted into a full auto for a six pack of the shittiest, cheapest bear that dirt could buy. I had always been interested in computer, but mainly with other people's financial records. I've stolen four teachers lives with their own computers (well, physical copies, I guys would be a better description). My real net worth is over ten thousand dollars, and that's just in fucking dollars. In euro's, I am a millionaire. In LA, either you're a somebody or a nobody. I was a somebody in the underground LA. I'm not proud of what I did to get there, but I was there. My 'mother' wasn't really my mother but my aunt, who was always OCD. She doesn't know a thing about my past life, only that my mom wanted me out of LA and quick. She had found me in the bathroom, with the worse bloody nose that you could have. The guy that had sold me the coke had put in something to cut my nose open and then added an anti-coagulant. I would have tried to stop the bleeding if I wasn't high._

_Another thing that I want to cover before 'Mom' comes in and does the usual interrogation on why my mom wanted me out of LA (she couldn't afford to feed me was the topic of the month): Sam. Most people think that I hate Sam and she hates me. Their only half right. Back in LA, I would pick a Sam over a Carly any day. Only thing is, that was when my name was Dominic…not Fredward, the most nerdish name I could think of on the spot to cover my real name up. I mean, people in LA looking for a Dominic wouldn't think to try to find a Fredward. But what I've been noticing about Sam is that she's kind of…zoning out. Like after you smoke bubblegum laced with crack (for future reference youme, bubblegum is the most expensive shit that you can get around here weed wise, right next to diesel), which I think she is. Well, that was actually a couple days ago. And her wrists…I'm gonna try to find out a way to help her out. Not even Carly see's anything wrong, yet. Give it time. Carly might have a fantasy about her life being perfect even though her parents are Jarheads protecting a navy nuclear sub, but that bubble will break as soon as she stops looking at Sam's face and starts to notice everything else, as in, well, I don't know…HER WRISTS. Maybe if she looked in Sam's eyes she'll see that their blood shot too. Last resort is that I'll have to help her, which will show that I like her which will show…that maybe I'm not Freddie. I don't want to do that. But what harm can happen from it? I don't think any but for some reason, even through all my planning, something goes wrong. Whatever. I need to hurry up and put this under the bed. Adios. __**Read and Wrote by: Freddie (Dominic) 'who is confused on life'**_

Freddie closed the journal, taking a moment to gaze at the 'cover'. He laughed to himself, thinking of what he would really do if he was in LA still. Probably scoff and go clubbing. Now that he had made a cocoon of lies around himself to the point of where he was starting to feel a small identity crisis coming on, he wasn't so sure. Maybe he would jerk off? Or discard it? He sure as shit wasn't getting any pussy lately. He'd been dry for…almost two years now. He sighed again. LA was calling him in…

There was a knock on the apartment's door. He grinned in spite. _And apparently so is Carly_.

He got up and answered the door to find Sam there, instead of Carly as he would expect. He leaned against the doorway, mocking the way Sam was in position. She replied with a scoff, straightening herself and folding her hands over her developing breasts. Freddie did the same.

"Ok, Fredward," she said, emphasizing his fake name as though it was an insult. Freddie began to smile, then remember that _Freddie _hated when Sam said that, and scowled instead, which almost made him laugh out loud. "Stop screwing around and get over here. Carly's having a panic attack cause she can't find the freaking blue remote thingy."

"It's called a sound directory," Freddie said absently, checking out Sam's butt through the fabric of her pink plaid shorts, covering it up with a cough and a scratching of the head.

"Whatever, dweed. It make sound and its blue," She paused in the doorway of the Shay's, acting as though she were thinking something over. "And, holy shit, not only that, but it's also a damn remote!" She emphasized the last part by slamming the door on Freddie's face. Of course, he saw it coming, but Freddie was the sort of guy who was slow on everything but grades and tech. Of course, door's with magnetic key swipes were a kind of tech, but…

He slammed on the door with the palm of his hand three times, yelling, "Dammit, Sam!"

Inside he heard Spencer sigh and Carly exasperated, "Sam! What was that for?"

"He was being nerdy again," Sam retorted. "He was giving me shit on the blue remote thingy."

"The sound directory?" Carly asked while she opened the door. Freddie smiled.

"See? The Amazing Nerdy Tech Boy has managed to convert your mind towards the tech side. What has the world come to?"

Sam was already eating a burrito, taking huge chunks out of it that quickly diminished it within forty seconds. Freddie made a disgusted face, but he was actually amused. _She's got a really big mouth._ The amused thought went on for a second before the long sleeve of her shirt partly fell down while she brought the burrito to her lips, revealing clean cut scabs. _Dammit, Sam…_ Freddie thought. Sam looked over at him, and made a face.

"What are _you _staring at, Techie?" She demanded, slightly amused.

"The way you eat that burrito's disgusting," Freddie shot back. "We could tape it and send it to the Discovery Channel."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Who watches the Discovery Channel?"

Carly stepped in. "Alright, guys, come on. Let's go practice for iCarly. We don't want to be under rehearsed, do we?"

Sam scoffed. "All Freddie does is point a camera and type a few things. Why does he need to be here for rehearsals if all he does is sit there and blank out on you, Carls?"

"Techie stuff is just as important as us, Sam," Carly said for Freddie, who seemed to be zoning out again. Silently, Carly noted that his aim of sight wasn't even directed at her most of the time. In fat, it was mostly aimed at Sam. And vice versa! Was there something going on that she didn't know about? She shook her head, banishing the thought. They hated each other, and that was the way it would probably be until after high school when Freddie goes off to MIT and Sam…does…whatever Sam does.

They headed upstairs, Freddie having to use the elevator because of his "Tech Trolley" as Carly called it. It had his laptop and various other ends and needs that he would require while he taped iCarly. As the elevator opened its doors, he pushed it out into the spot where he normally had everything set up. Taking out the second angle camera, he set up the tripod and turned it on, attaching the small Bluetooth adaptor so that it would signal into his laptop when he turned it on. Next was the main camera, which Freddie had to hold in order to catch all of the girls crazy actions. He also had a Bluetooth adapter on this, but he had installed it internally himself one night while the girls had a 'girl night out' and while his mother played bridge with her friends. Booting up his laptop, he asked Carly to turn the TV's Bluetooth on and put the input to the VGA. Carly obeyed, and the screen showed what was happening on Freddie's laptop screen. Setting the TV so it was an extension off his desktop, he put the normal emailed videos on the screen, but put a 'blanket' over them so that they were dark.

"Ok, everything's ready to go for tonight."

"Wait!" Carly thought suddenly. "Where's the sound directory?"

"Blue sound remote thingy!" Sam interjected, but Carly ignored her and began to search through the cushions. Sighing, Sam got on her knee's and checked under the couch. Freddie typed on the laptop for a second and there was a high pitched whining sound.

"Awww!" Sam screamed. "Turn it off! Turn it off! My heads gonna explode!"

Carly followed the sound and found the sound directory, throwing it to Sam, who was clutching her ear tenderly. "Good thing you installed that sound locator onto there, Freddie, otherwise you would have to have made the sounds!"

"Yea, good for me," Freddie muttered, closing that window and enlarging the iCarly screen. "Ok, everything is now in place for the rehearsal. Starting in five, four, three, two…"

--

**A/N: Hello, everyone. This is my first iCarly fic and I think I've got the voice and everything down, but maybe I don't…why don't you tell me by reviewing! That would be great. Ok, thanks for your time. Chapter two might come out in another…three days? Maybe? It might be less if you can give me some idea. Alright. Fball out.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Entry in Freddie's Personal Journal, Found Under His Bed With An Empty 'Hustler' Magazine Around It**

**January 13th, 2009**

_Sam just cut herself within the last day. I saw it myself, again. Clean cut scabs, pretty narrow. That means she's using one of those craft knife razors, not an actual knife, which would be dull and sort of jagged an wide. Why am I talking about different cutting styles?! The point is: Sam needs to get help before she does something bad, like cut an artery. And the worst part is that Carly still hasn't noticed! I just want to get in her face about it. What do I have to do to show her that Sam is abusing herself? Make a PowerPoint?! I don't know what to do. I think I'll play it out after iCarly tomorrow. Talk to Sam one on one. That should probably do it. Unless she gets made and makes up an excuse, like Dominic (I) used to do. Whatever. Fredward Benson out. __**Read and Wrote by Freddie (Dominic) 'who is seriously now confused'**_

Freddie pushed the magazine-journal under the bed, his hand brushing against the metal lock box. Trying to grab it, but since he couldn't get a grip, he looking underneath and used both hands to yank it out. Lifting his mattress, he found the small slit that he had made and pulled out the key to the box. Opening it, he took out his gun (the Glock .45 automatic) and several small canisters. Two were marked with an X and four of them had a VI. There was one with a PC, and various others. He smiled as he found a picture of his real mom. She looked almost exactly like him, but with curly, long hair. He sighed, then put the box back together and locked it, putting everything exactly as it was before heading over to Carly's for the actual filming of iCarly.

Spencer was the one opening the door, and he greeted Freddie warmly.

"Fred-o!" Spencer greeted, hustling him into the apartment. "Check out my newest sculpture. I call it…I have lost all of my creative and witty comments for a short time. Awww! I hate when that happens!"

It was a sculpture that was a UFO made out of only CD's. Interested, Freddie went to investigate and, surprised, found his old Plain White T's CD.

"Hey! What's my Plain White T's CD doing in here?" he asked, wondering if it would be a good idea to try to retrieve it.

"Yours? Sam said it was hers and she already copied them to her computer!" Spencer said, sitting on the couch and slamming his palm on his temple in a feeble effort to get rid of his sculpture naming block.

"Whatever. I haven't even listened to their old stuff in like a year. I guess it's okay if you leave that there."

"Ok. Oh! And the girls are upstairs, getting ready."

"Oh, thanks, Spence. See you later."

"Yep, have fun." Spencer called up to him.

When Freddie was about halfway up the stairs, Spencer suddenly yelled, "UFCD!" Freddie grinned. Maybe smacking yourself in the face worked for Spencer. He opened the iCarly door and walked in, surprised to see that Sam was monkeying around with his laptop.

"Hey! No! That is so wrong right there!"

Sam scoffed. "I know. What are you doing here!"

Freddie was fully prepared to bring forth a snapping come back, but Sam interjected. "The only reason you come to these are so you can goggle Carly while she jumps around, you sick freak."

"Wow, Sam. At least I found someone to like who might in a future occasion might like me back! All the guys at school think you're a freak."

Sam's face tightening with a quick snap of emotion, then went to it's slack, uncaring expression. Freddie instantly regretted saying it, but _Freddie _was going to take it back, no matter how bad _Dominic _wanted to. She walked calmly towards him while he pretended to be fixing something on the computer, then punch him in the jaw. He allowed it to hit him, since he had made such a jerk comment, but locked his jaw so that it didn't snap. She then ran towards the bathroom, breathing quick.

"Sam!" Carly and Freddie called at the Sam time, Carly glaring at Freddie.

"Freddie! You know how sensitive Sam is about that!"

Freddie mustered a half hearted scoff. "Sam? Sensitive? No freaking way!"

Carly approached the bathroom, but Freddie grabbed her hand. "No, I'll talk to her. It's my fault."

Carly stared at Freddie, but stood back to allow him to do his work. He knocked on the door, hand on the handle.

"Sam?" he called.

"Go away, douche."

Freddie winced, but continued on anyway. "Come on, Sam. I'm sorry I'm such a douche. I shouldn't have said that. There are plenty of guys attracted to you."

"Just shut up and leave me alone!"

Freddie tried the door, and found that it was locked. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a small metal rod with a hook on the end and another flat rod. Working quickly, he picked the lock and entered t he bathroom, closing it behind him and locking it. Sam instantly began to attack him, hitting him in the chest before stuffing her face into his shirt, sobbing. Trying to comfort her, he wrapped his arms around his and hugged her, slightly rocking left and right. "I'm sorry I'm such a douche bag," he whispered softly.

She gained control of herself, swallowing and wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm mean to you all the time." She apologized. Freddie scoffed.

"Yeah, right," he said jokingly. He actually did enjoy the banter that the two shared, or at least _Dominic _did.

"No, I'm serious, I'm such a bitch to you all the time and-" she cut off and began to cry again.

_Should I bring up the cutting? _Freddie wondered. _No, not yet. Later. Some other day. _Instead, he began to softly sing. "_This is the story of a girl, who cried a river and drowned the whole world. And although she looks so sad in photographs, I absolutely love it…" _he lifted her chin so that they were looking into each others eyes. "_When she smiles."_

She smiled, hugging Freddie tightly. "You're the coolest dweeb I know."

"That is the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Pretty lame, huh."

"Nah, I think it's nice."

They looked at each other for a moment, slowly leaning in towards each other. _Shit, we're gonna kiss aren't we? _That's when Carly slammed on the door. "Come on! iCarly starts in 5 minutes!"

Sam looked up for a moment. "Save that one for later."

Freddie grinned and nodded. "Save that one for later."

**A/N: Yeah, I lied. I thought chapter two would take three days but I had a sudden rush of inspiration. What's weird is I had it while mowing the lawn. That's were I get all my good ideas for some reason. Whatever. I want to thank Celt8s and earth-fairy2006 for reviewing, and 4everyoung, seddie4ever29, and earth-fairy again for adding me to alerts and earth-fairy (AGAIN) as well as Liason4lyfe for adding me to favorites. Wow. I feel loved. Spread the love people and review once more! Fball out.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Entry in Freddie's Personal Journal, Found Under His Bed With An Empty 'Hustler' Magazine Around It**

**January 13th, 2009 (Late Night)**

_Me and Sam almost kissed. It…was amazing. It's weird that I've been with…more woman than Eminem, most likely, and that the one I fall for is…Sam. I don't know what to do. With all this faking love with Carly…maybe I've started to actually like Carly. And now…with Sam…Dammit! Stupid hormones…I can't think like this right now. I'm gonna have a brain explosion if I don't stop. Adios. __**Read and Wrote by Freddie (Dominic) 'who likes Sam…and Carly DAMMIT!!'**_

_Dominic smiled and handed Greg the money, accepting a small packet with the white gold. He thanked him with a pat on the shoulder, then returned to the party, stuffing the packet in his suit jackets inner pocket. He sat at one of the round tables, his friends all greeting him warmly. He called over one the waiters and ordered shots all around, giving the guy a fifty. His friends cheered even more, some punching his shoulder and others resting their hands on his legs. He smiled, the small packet forgotten for the moment. The vodka burned on its way down, making his enter chest feel warm, but he enjoyed the feeling since his first swallow the previous year. He ordered an entire bottle and talked about the cost of drugs and underage alcohol going up with all the crack downs all over the city. Though Dominic had nothing to worry about, some of his friends did. Two were cop killers, one was a 'hitman' in a sense, and several were dealers. Dominic was only on drugs, which had its own consequences, of course, but none were as harsh if you were caught with more than a couple grams (or ounces, depending on what you were selling). He was a junkie hacker, but a _successful _junkie hacker at that. After two more rounds, he remembered the coke that was in his jacket and excused himself to the bathroom. Common courtesy in clubs was that no body wanted to see you do drugs, so you went to the bathroom and did your thing. Also, they couldn't be forced to witness against you if they didn't see it._

_Going into a stall, he emptied the packet onto the small ledge where magazines were supposed to go, but of course wasn't. Making sure that every bit was out, he tossed the plastic into the toilet, and dug in his back pocket for a razor blade in one of the hard to see pockets. Finding it, he made on neat, happy line and smiled at his work. Leaning down low, he covered his left nostril and snorted hard, moving his head towards the right. Instantly, two things happened. One was a given: he was high. The next was that his nose began to bleed. _Bad. _He had never had his nose bleed before while he did, or after he did, coke, but for some reason it had started to happen. Not that he cared in the state he was in at the moment. All he could think about was how Liz had such a tight ass and how he was going to find a way to pound it later on. After that explicit thought, he passed out._

_Jason was the one who became concerned when Dominic hadn't returned from the bathroom. He excused himself and got up and quickly made a beeline towards the bathroom. He passed Greg and thought for a moment that he should buy some product, but thought that Dominic being in the bathroom for a half hour, getting high was a little less important, so he rushed in. He saw that all the stalls were empty except for one. Almost immediately, he felt a large weight get off his shoulder. Until he knocked on the stall. There was no reply. He knocked again. That's when he freaked out and busted it in. _

_Dominic was sprawled all over the toilet, his head hanging off the seat. His nose was gushing blood and there already was a bullet wounds amount on the ground underneath his head. Grabbing a large wad of toilet paper, Jason plugged Dominic's nose and sat him up. Taking out his cell phone, he called Austin and told him the situation. Austin then called his 'doctor', who gave him an address to bring Dominic. _

_Jason cleaned Dominic up and put his hat on his head to cover his face with a shadow, then 'walked' him out and to Austin's car. They then drove to the address, and watched while Fred, the doctor, put an IV and a blood drip into Dominic and an air tube in his mouth and sat back. There was nothing past that he could do._

_When Dominic woke up six hours later, there was a very tired Jason and a snoozing Austin on the couch. Jason immediately jumped up and rushed to Dominic's bedside, explaining the situation._

_"Someone fucked you over with the coke," Jason said, his eyes hard. "Who sold you it?"_

_Dominic mumbled a feeble answer, but the air tube was in the way. Fred came over and removed it. Even then, he had a hard time trying to get the words out. _

_"Hey, Doc! Get me a pen!" Jason said, taking out a ten dollar bill and handing it to Dominic. Fred came back with pen. "I want you to write the name of the dealer that gave you the crank. And we're gonna kill him." _

_But Dominic shook his head. Weakly, he wrote a small, scribbled message on the bill, right over Hamilton's face. Jason read it out loud. "_Find who ordered the dealer to crank me." _He read. "Ok. But who gave you the janked shit?"_

_Coughing, Dominic gave the answer. "Greg…"_

_Jason's eyes flashed. "I saw that son of a bitch when I went to check you out."_

_He turned back towards Dominic, but he was already asleep again._

Freddie woke up with a start. The alarm clock was blaring the news, and he slammed the snooze button, which turned the volume down so that he could still hear the news. He laid back for a moment, trying to recalled yesterday's events. He had gone over to Carly's to film iCarly. That lead to an argument with Sam, which lead to Sam punching him in the mouth and hiding out in the bathroom. Somehow, _that _lead to him and Sam almost kissing in Carly's bathroom. But he hadn't brought up the cutting, which was the main thing that was annoying him. He had to confront her about that before it was too late. _Today, _he thought. _Defiantly today. _He knew what a reckless life could put you. And he didn't want someone he cared about to go down the same path.

He got out of bed, quickly making his bed without thinking about it and got into his personal shower. As he washed his hair, his mind kept going back to the almost kiss. It just continued to play in his mind in the same manner of when he had been given the janked coke and had been found half dead 

and mostly bled out in the restroom of the club by Jason. He sighed, and turned the shower off, drying himself off with a towel before putting on his normal 'Freddie' style: striped polo (this one was light blue with white stripes with a little white eagle on one of the blue stripes), lose jeans and his Van's. Putting on some deodorant and cologne, he ate a quick breakfast and went over to Carly's to hang out before going to school. While he was rinsing out the bowl (one of his _mothers _many things she was OCD about), his cell gently vibrated three times, alerting him of a text message. He dried his hands on his pants and looked at his phone. It was from Rip-Off, and the message read: _Any more fake hall passes?_ Freddie smiled, grinning in spite. After the 50th Web Show Spectacular, he had confronted Rodney in the hopes of forming a deal. He gave Rodney a trial fifty fake hall passes that were made off his own computer and a special printer. Now it looked like Rodney wanted to get a deal going on the counterfeit hall passes. Though it wasn't the same as fake hundreds, it still gave him the old satisfaction that he could make a fake look so viable that people would take it without asking.

He replied and then headed over towards the Shay's home. He knocked on the door and Spencer answered it, his hair a jumbled mess and his face in the need of a shave.

"Can I help you, Sir Hippo-rhino-man-bear-pig?" he mumbled groggily.

Freddie smiled. "Can I come in?"

"Yes! And the French stool softener is in her room, ready for day. Sit on TV and watch couch until she comes back from the store if that is what you want."

"Morning's aren't good for you, are they?"

"Nada-nope,"

"Don't shave until you wake up a little more,"

Spencer nodded, which resulted in him smacking his head against the door. Freddie smiled again and sat down on the couch and turning on the large screen LCD TV. Propping his feet up on the coffee table, he sat back and enjoyed Junkyard Wars. A few minutes Sam walked in without knocking, throwing his backpack at Freddie and jumping over the back of the couch, landing next to Freddie.

"What are you watching, dork?" she asked, pulling out a cereal bar from between the cushions and unwrapping it.

"Junkyard Wars, if you want to know," he replied.

"Hmm," she said, pretending to think. "Sound's nerdy, yet violent at the same time. Shall I take a gander or shan't I?"

"Do whatever you want," Freddie jokingly scoffed.

"Anything?" Sam asked, arching a single elegant eyebrow.

"Yes, ma'am," Freddie replied.

"Well…" she said, leaning towards him. "Anything at all…?"

"Yeah," he said, beginning to lean towards her.

"Hey, guys!" Carly exclaimed. Sam and Freddie jerked away from each other, Freddie taking out his cell phone as a cover.

"See! Windows Mobile 6 is way better than 5!"

Sam scoffed, but smile gently. "5 could kick 6's ass."

"Wow," Carly said, rolling her eyes. "Is there anything you two don't fight about?"

Sam and Freddie shared a glanced, Freddie saying, "Maybe a few…hidden things."

Sam smiled. "Yea…things we haven't exactly thought of yet. We'll burn that bridge when we cross it."

They shared a laugh, right when Spencer got out of his room, clean shaven (without any cuts, thankfully), and ready for the day.

"Hey, guys, when did you get here?" he asked, rubbing his hands together.

Freddie stared up at him. "_You _let me in."

Spencer nodded. "Oh. Well then. Carls, did you have breakfast?"

"No, I just got out of my room."

"I haven't had anything to eat yet," Sam interjected, neglecting to mention the cereal bar. She gave Freddie a wink, and he smiled.

"Maybe we should stop at Groovy Smoothie on the way to school. They got a new breakfast selection."

Spencer nodded, putting his shoes on. "Sounds great."

After grabbing the smoothies, they were deposited near the entrance of the school, where several kids were streeting, going off the elongated stairs with their bike. Most of them where making it, and only a few had hit the last few steps. Rodney was one of the bikers. He went back and forth, trying to find a spot where he would get enough speed to clear the steps. He settled for propping the school door open and biking in, then speeding out and pro hopping off. He landed well clear of the bottom step. He used his foot on his back tire as a break, stopping in front of Freddie.

"Freddie! Fancy seeing you here in the front of the school right before we engage in school activities such as learning-" he wiggled his eyebrows. "And selling certain hall passes."

"I've got a packet of fifty," he replied, reaching into his back pocket and pulling them out.

"I'll give you seventy for the packet," Rodney offered, reaching for his wallet.

"Hundred."

"That, my friend, seems pretty high,"

"Considering your gonna sell them for three bucks each, I think that two dollars each is a nice price."

Rodney laughed. "I think that someone has had experience in this sort of thing. Haven't you, Fred. Ok, fine a hundred for the pack." They exchanged items, Rodney examining the fakes. He reached in his pocket and compared them to a single one. "These are good enough to be the real deal." He declared. "Money well spent. I think we'll be doing business in the future."

"I sure hope so," Freddie said, grinning.

He turned around, suddenly remember Carly and Sam. Sam had a smirk on her face. She punched him in the shoulder affectionately, saying, "I always knew you had a weak spot for crime, Freddie."

Carly was much less happy about the transaction she had just witness. "You…and Rodney…are doing business together?"

"I needed some extra money, and you know I'm pretty good with a computer and printer." Freddie joked.

Carly was about to retort, but Sam interrupted before she could start. "Shhh….Carls, let Freddie enjoy his mild crime spree as a hall pass forger. This could have benefits for us all."

"I don't want to be any part of this," Carly said in a dignified way. Sam watched her enter the school in a huff, and shrugged.

"Carls will get over it eventually. She always does. She can't resist the Sam,"

_And neither can I…_Freddie thought, sighing as he followed her into the school building.


	4. Chapter 4

**Entry in Freddie's Personal Journal, Found Under His Bed With An Empty 'Hustler' Magazine Around It**

**January 14th, 2009**

_Goddam it, I'm sick of this almost kissing thing! __**Read and Wrote by Freddie (Dominic)**_

_Fred, also mostly known as Doc, opened the only locked door in the abandoned warehouse, fully expecting to see that Dominic was still in bed, sleeping. Instead, he saw Dominic sitting on the edge of the bed with a glass jar. The entire room reeked of chemicals, and Fred immediately felt a moment of wooziness, but it passed, giving him enough of a level head to ask what the hell Dominic was doing._

_"Jason said that we're gonna take care of Greg tonight," Dominic said, dropping nails into the container, which looked like it had been internally coated with gasoline. Reaching beside him, he took an eyedropper full of a whitish, clear liquid and dropped a few drops inside, then capped it._

_"Dom, you have no idea what you're going into, do you?" Doc sighed, setting his coat on the couch and making his way towards the bed._

_"We've hired a few pros to keep a look out at the hotel where Greg hiding out."_

_"No…I did a sample at home on some of the shit we got out of your nose. That anticoagulant? It's mainly from west LA. That means that the person that hired Greg to jank you is from the Bloods. If you go and fuck around with Greg, the Blood's are gonna have a field day."_

_Dominic looked up at the Doc, thinking. "How'd you get that scar?"_

_"I did some stupid shit in Vietnam. Lied about my age, made fake papers, and volunteered. Saw some of the worst shit in that battle, son. I've seen real battle, and the Blood's remind me a lot of the Vietcong. They'll ambush you at the moment you least expect it."_

_Dominic was silent for a moment, wrapping the glass bomb in a thick cocoon of bubble wrap. Absently, he put it in a duffel, and sat still for a moment, lost in thought. Suddenly, he got back to work with another glass container._

_"Sorry, Doc, but nobody fucks with us. Remember the good old days when nobody tried to screw around with us? I'm going to get those times back, Fred." Dominic laughed for a moment. "You saved my life. I think I might name my kid after you."_

_Doc sighed, laughing slightly. "If this all goes to hell, you can use it in your next life."_

Algebra was, of course, very much ridiculously easy for someone who had made their own computer programs, but still, Freddie didn't want to appear that smart (and neither did Dominic, either). Plant a few careful mistakes, and _viola, _you still had an A, but not a 4.0. Save that for high school when it would actually count.

After texting the answers to Sam, he put the homework away and got out an aged mp3 player. It was almost the size of half a dollar, with the screen being half of the front. Turning it on, he waited for 

the teacher to leave the classroom for her bihourly smoke. Carefully (thank God he was in the back of the class, almost right next to the teachers desk) he plugged it into one of the USB ports. Instantly, the mp3 turned to life and took over control, leaving the keyboard and the mouse useless for controlling the computer. His cell, which was a Q9m, vibrated gently. He took it out and read the text that the mp3 had sent him. Opening the attachment, he smiled. Looking over at the monitor, he saw that every action he did on his phone was mimicked. Quickly, he did his work. Lastly, he set a simple, harmless virus into the computers main drive, then shut the computer off. Once it was turned on again, the virus would pop up on the anti virus software, which the mainframe of the school would quarantine the computer, blocking it from Wi-Fi and all other forms of wireless and dial up internet while the independent software dealt with it. _Just another day of computer troubles, _Freddie thought, smug with himself.

Carefully, he snuck a glance at Sam, who, much like the rest of the class, had her cell phone out while she copied the answers. She looked over at Freddie and smiled, thanking him. He mouthed _No problem, _then went back to staring at her while she went back to work. How was it that he was going to fall for her? For some reason, this reminded him that he had left his mp3 player connected to the teacher's computer. Quickly, he retrieved it and had stuffed it into his pocket right when the teacher had walked back in. Her facial expression read that she hadn't seen anything unusual, as she went back to sit at her desk. Grinning to himself, he watched as she turned the computer on.

"Not another computer virus!" she almost screamed, her face pink. The class almost laughed out loud, but for the most part had managed to keep a straight face and make it look like they cared about the assignment that was in front of them.

Freddie noticed that Sam was looking his way with a narks face. Freddie smiled back and slightly shrugged his shoulders in a 'it wasn't me' look, but Sam winked. Freddie nodded, then began to wait for the bell.

After school, before Carly had gotten out of Algebra, Sam stood next to Freddie locker while he threw all of his stuff into his locker and locked it.

"So _you're the_ one who's been putting the viruses onto old Kvittum's computer," she said, clearly impressed. "What else do you do while you hook up that parasitic mp3- steal her identity."

Freddie just smiled at the comment. _Yes, ma'am, I am._

Finally, Carly had caught up with them, her backpack heavy on her shoulders. "You two, left alone for two minutes and either's dead?" she joked. Instantly Sam began to pretend choke Freddie, who made exaggerated Bart Simpson choking noises. Carly smiled, but thought, _Wow, these two are really friendly all of a sudden! I wonder-_

But she was interrupted by Rip Off Rodney, who walked right into the middle of their circle.

"Fred, my man! Those new hall passes were hot! I sold out before second period. Here, here's three hundred. Maybe that'll be enough to keep me stocked, eh?" he said, handing Freddie a thick wad of money. "Oh! And people where wondering about those read day sucker card things."

All classes had a 'read day' for some reason, where they sold suckers for a quarter each. After several teachers got sick of handling change, they made credit card sort of devices that had a magna reader on the back, very much like a credit card. A student would give a teacher some money and the card, and the teacher would enter the amount of money imputed, swipe the card and the card would be replenished. To buy, all they had to do was pick the amount of suckers, swipe the card. Simple.

"What do you mean?" Freddie asked. "They want them replenished?"

"Yea. I figured you could do that pretty easily, could ya?"

Freddie nodded. "I'd have to make a reader, so give me a week."

After Rodney left, Carly once again began to chew Freddie out.

"Chillax!" Freddie yelled, backing away from her with his hand protectively over his face.

"Yea, don't worry about it," Sam added. "He's a pro at this computer stuff. He was the one that put the virus on Kvittum's computer."

Carly's mouth dropped. "That was you! She did a background search on all of us! We were fingerprinted!"

Sam grinned. "This is great. Freddie's joining me on the criminal side, and Carly just feels like one."

Carly let out a small, tight scream, and stomped off to the bus stop. Sam looked at Freddie. "Should we try to comfort her?"

"I don't know. I'm a guy who's barely been on a date. I'm clueless on the female species!" Freddie joked. What Dominic would do would be to chase her down, get her to a secluded spot and talk to her. Maybe even get a little putty tang after she was calmed.

Sam grinned. "Yea, your not exactly a pimp." She said, leaning in to, once again, attempt to kiss him. He leaned in, too.

Suddenly, there were screams, people running. Sam was almost knocked down. Dominic's instincts took over once he heard the third and fourth shots. Grabbing Sam's hand, he yelled, "We have to find Carly!" and began to search, running the opposite way of the general panic. They spotted Carly, who was being carried towards the school by her exboyfriend, Henry, who was the QB for the schools football team.

"Carly, we'll meet you at the apartment! We need to split up!" Freddie yelled. Carly could only nod.

There were more shots, and Freddie began to sprint down the east side of the block, Sam closely behind him. Their path was blocked off by a medium sized Latino guy in a grey wife beater. In his hand was a pistol (Berretta 9mm, Dominic thought), he hadn't seen them yet, but was shooting in the general 

direction of the kids. Freddie saw his opportunity and took it. Using the knife side of his hand, he hit the Mexican in the neck, unfortunately only stunning him and making him drop the gun. Quickly, seeing that the blow didn't have the effect that he had hoped for, Freddie did a follow through with his elbow connecting with the man's temple. He was knocked over. Freddie reached down for the gun, feeling the old comfort of a firearm. Noticing the silencer, he pointed the gun at the man's face.

"Let me see your shoulder." Freddie commanded.

"_Mi llamo-"_

Reaching down, he ripped the wife beater and saw the tattoo. "Fuck!" he cursed. He took a few steps back, the run forward and stomped on the man's temple, severing a main veins and killing him instantly. Looking over towards Sam, he said, "Don't worry, he's only knocked out." _You've brought these people to Sam and Carly and Spencer! _Dominic scolded himself. _Shut up. _Freddie tucked the pistol in his pants waistline and ran to the only car on the side of the rode. Quickly, he used the pistol butt to break the glass and then unlocked the car. Getting underneath the steering wheel, he felt instantly grateful that the under dash wasn't enclosed. Finding the matching wires, he crossed them and the engine purred to life.

"Get in!" Freddie commanded, brushing the glass from the seat and sitting. Sam stared at him. "Sam, please just get in. I'll explain once we're safe." He pleaded.

"Who the fuck are you!" Sam demanded, slowly backing away.

"No, Sam, please! Just get in the car!" Freddie pleaded again, jumping out of the car.

"Get away from me! Help!"

Freddie leaped foreword, closing her mouth shut. "Sam, please just listen! We need to get out of here before his _amigos _get here!"

Closing her eyes, she nodded, then walked to the other side of the car and got in. Freddie jumped in and took off, taking a long, complicated route all the way back to the apartment. The entire ride was filled with tension. _Murder and grand theft auto, _Freddie thought. _Oh! And concealing a weapon that's no doubt unlicensed._

"Get out of my lobby! I just mopped!" Lewbert almost shrieked.

Freddie approached him with a no bullshit facial expression. "Listen, if anybody Mexican that you don't know comes near the building, don't hesitate to call the cops."

"What-"

"Mexican Mafia." Freddie said, and dragged Sam into the elevator

In the elevator was when Sam finally broke down sobbing. "What the hell is going on!"

"I'll explain once we make sure Carly and Spencer are safe."

Bursting in through the front door, Freddie saw that Carly was wrapped in a protective hug around Spencer. "Guys!" Spencer called, clearly relieved. "There were people shooting at the school?"

"Get a duffel full of clothes and things you want to keep," Freddie said, avoiding their eyes. "Sam, your about Carly's size, right? I'll go pack, too. I'll meet you here in fifteen minutes."

"Fred-o!" Spencer said, completely muffed. "What's happened?"

"Just…please…I can explain later, once we're safe," Freddie begged, leaving their apartment and entering his. His 'mother' wasn't home yet from playing bridge, which made packing and leaving so much easier. He shoved clothes and items in his bag without even thinking about it. He was ready in five minutes, but he stood in the entrance of his room, sighing. _One home to another. _Suddenly, he dove under his bed and dug up the metal box. He unlocked it and dumped the contents into the bag, minus the gun, which he shoved in his waistband along with the other. He wrote a small note to his aunt, then went to the Shay's apartment. He was surprised to see that they were all already packed and sitting on the couch.

"Please…Freddie…." Sam begged. "What is going on?"

Dominic swallowed. "Well…my name is actually Dominic…" he started.

**A/N: So…what'd you think? Write a review and tell me what you want to see next chapter. And I can maybe intertwine it into my plot. Trust me. **


	5. Chapter 5

_Greg was tied to a chair, his face already bloody from Jason and Dominic taking turns playing Rocky. Dominic, had of course, did the worse damage. He went for the nose, eyes, side of the throat, temple, and jaw, while Jason just decided to go with the eenie, meenie, miny, mo and punch whatever he ended up pointing at. This included the stomach, solar plexus, kidneys, and various other locations. Jason was growing agitated, and let Dominic whale at Greg for a while, while Jason purposely slowly began to screw a silencer onto his gun. Greg's eyes widened, and he began to stammer. "No-n-no! Please! I swear, I don't know anything!"_

_"Hey, Dom!" Jason called cheerfully._

_"Yes, Jason?" Dominic would answer just as jolly, in a scary forecast of what Sam and Carly's iCarly banter would sound like._

_"Would you do me a favor, and just move out of the way just for a…teeny, tiny second?"_

_"Of course, Jason!"_

_"Please!" Greg begged, crying and whimpering. Jason shot Greg's foot, causing Greg to squeal out like a first time hooker. _

_"Shut the fuck up unless your gonna tell us who paid you to jank that coke and sell it to Dominic!" Jason demanded, shooting a couple inches into the same leg. "For every time you lie, I'll shoot higher. And yes, that means, eventually, I'll get to your balls. So, if you like your testis to stay in their pubical sack in one piece, shut up and tell us _who janked the shit!"

"_Please…" Greg sobbed. "My mom…she has cancer! I had to do the job! Her job couldn't cover the bills and-"_

_Jason punched Greg in the mouth, making his lips slash against his teeth. Jason stuck the gun in Greg's eye and leaned towards his ear, whispering like they were sharing a fantastic secret that they would only know. "Don't try to bull shit me, Gregory," Jason said. "Your mother died when she was raped and killed two years ago by one of the guys that paid her to fuck him. Your dad is a drunk that works at-hmm, how ironic- the Miller Lite brewery. Your sister moved Florida cause she couldn't stand you! I know everything about you, Greg. Even that you like to dress up in you mothers hooker boots."_

_Greg sobbed. "No, I don't-"_

_"Does it piss you off that your sister left you? Was she the only one that kept you on the straight and narrow until you started to deal to her boyfriend? The boyfriend that got abusive and beat the living shit out of her every day until she got fed up, shot his ass, then high tailed it?"_

_"Stop! My sister left because they have better education in Florida!"_

_"It's one thing to lie to me. It's another to lie to yourself."_

_Jason backed off, looking at Dominic. He set the gun on the bed, and leaned against the wall, looking at Greg._

_"Make it end, Greg," Dominic offered. "Who paid you to try to kill me? I can make you a new life. Somewhere in Orlando, with your sister. Make a new bank account, bump your age up a little bit, you could adopt her, man. And the money I can get you…shit, dude, you don't need to deal on the cold, hard streets any more. Just give me a name. That's all I need! Just a binominal name. First, last. Gang if you have it. Can you give me that, Greg? If you can, we have a Doc that'll take care of you until your plane leaves. Come one, what do you say?"_

_Greg was silent, shoulder's bucking from sobbing. Finally, he looked up with red rimmed eyes, and looked directly at Dominic. "It was José," he whispered. "I can't pronounce his last name. Head of the Mexican Mafia. Pissed at you cause you drained his account number."_

_Jason nodded, then hustled Dominic out of sight into the bathroom. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked at his friend and said the thing that Dominic wanted to hear least:_

_"You gotta get out of here,"_

_"I can't leave LA," Dominic protested to Jason, completely taken aback. "So what if the Mafia wants to take me out cause I pulled their leaders funds almost dry? I can finish the job and he won't have the funds to do anything else!"_

_Jason gave a single, short bark of laughter. "Don't kid yourself. Mexican Mafia has more connected then the Bloods and Crips, combined. You fuck with them, you can only live in the northern states where the whetbacks only go to pick weeds in the summer!"_

_Dominic made a face. "Racial issues? Come on, who wants to live in North Dakota? Minnesota? And, my aching ass, Washington?"_

_Jason sighed, putting his gun on the edge of the sink and grasping his best friend's shoulders. "Please, man. Five years out of California. Just five. It's not a life time. You can still fuck people over with your computer stunts in North Dakota. They have Wal-Mart's and Dell stores where you can buy a computer and computer parts and carburetors-"_

_"Carburetor's?" Dominic laughed. "Those are for old ass card, dumb ass."_

_Jason made a face. "Then what makes the computer run?"_

_"Oh, I don't know. Processor? Or are you talking about the fucking electrical cord?"_

_They shared a laugh, which was interrupted by Greg's nervous shout. "Um…guys?"_

_"Shut up, Greg!" Jason yelled. "I swear to God, if you talk again without me referring to you directly, I'll take napalm and-"_

_"_Vamos!" _Frantic strings of Spanish were screamed as the windows broke and the sound of stomping feet could be heard._

_"Damn it!" Jason mumbled, grabbing his gun and peeking around the corner of the door. For a reward, one Mafia member almost shot his nose off. Jason responded in kind, though all three of his bullet's connected with the target. "Reach into the blue duffel and hand me the M4!" he commanded._

_Instead, Dominic reached into his own bag and began to unravel a huge cocoon of bubble wrap and foam and held a single, large glass jar. "Remember that one time we shot skeet, but with the pistols?" he asked nervously._

_"Yeah…" Jason stopped shooting and looked at his friend, nervous. "Fuck-no! I'm not shooting that!"_

_"It'll take them all out!" Dominic argued._

_"Just throw it!"_

_"Everything's soft! The glass won't break!"_

_"Damn it…" Jason muttered, closing his eyes and sighing. He looked up and gave Dominic a sharp look. "If I lose my damn nose, I'll feed you to José!" he promised, then looked down at his pistol. Sliding the magazine out, he counted his bullets. "On 'pull', right?"_

_"Yessir," Dominic said, preparing to throw the jug bomb._

_Jason began to slowly breath with his eyes closed. After a few seconds, he yelled, "Pull!" Dominic chucked the glass jar around the door and Jason leaned out. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. There were about six Mexican's all with guns out. Two began to shoot, but the rest realized what was about to come and began to run. Greg was still tied to a chair, but his eyes became wide as he saw the glass jar heading right towards him. He began to rock backwards. Jason pulled the trigger, and the bullet broke the glass, giving the potassium permanganate air, which ignited the gas, exploding faster than the broken glass could separate. Glass shard and flame engulfed everything, including Greg, who got the worst of the shrapnel and fire. Jason winced, but grinned. "He's not gonna visit his sister after all."_

Freddie felt the sweat pour down his neck as he quickly ran through the gist of his story, ending with his arrival to Seattle, Washington and his meeting with Sam and Carly. He inhaled once through his nose for a count of eight, then let go of it through his mouth, a calming technique that he often used to get to his subconscious to slow his heart beat down. His eyes were trained on the carpet in front of him, the weight of judgment heavy all over. Sam got up, and slowly made her way towards Freddie. She gently grasped his shoulders and lifted his chin to look into hers. Her eyes were slightly wet with tears, but she was smiling.

"_This is the story of a girl…" _she gently sang. Freddie interrupted her with the kiss that they had been trying to get for over two days. Surprised (but pleasantly so) she kissed back, long and deep. When 

they finally parted, Spencer was completely taken aback while Carly had her own small smirk on, despite the circumstances that they were currently in.

"So…" Spencer said, trying to think of a subject to bring up.

"What are we going to do about the Mafia?" Carly finished for her older brother.

Freddie looked around, nervously trying to rack his brain for the answer. Of course, the answer came in the form of a red canister and Styrofoam. He smiled, and continued to look around. There was the slight reek of alcohol, and Spencer didn't go to bars, which meant he had been drinking a beer out of either a can or a bottle. Freddie hoped for the later.

"Spencer, did you drink that beer out of a can or a bottle?" Freddie asked.

"Well I drank it from-" Spencer was twisting around in several different way, seemingly trying to either crack his back or look for the beer bottle by looking everywhere at once. "Um…oh! Upper cupboard, one to the left where Carly can't reach!" he jumped up and got into the cupboard, taking down a twelve pack of a no name brand booze.

Freddie smiled. Perfect.

"Napalm cocktails, any one?" he asked, cocking a single eyebrow up/

**A/N: Yes, I know. Most of the action was in the flash back. Couldn't help it. I know how I want the story to go on after they get out of the apartment…but I can't think of any good way to do that right now. My plans are either a bunch of Mexican's come in and get shot to shit or….well that's my only plan right now. Review with some ideas PLEASE?!**


	6. Chapter 6

_Dominic stood with his fake passport and his tickets. He opened the passport and looked at his new name: Fredward Benson. Grinning, he closed it and looked down at his backpack. The line was moving now and he quickly put the bag onto his shoulder and followed the line until he was finally on board. They did a passport check, and the suspicious bitch at the counter had decided that a thirteen year old could be a terrorist (damn 9/11) and had him take off his shoes, hat, and had gone through all of his stuff and gave him a thorough pat down... three times. Deciding he had enough of this, he casually said, "So, Mrs. Dotson…can I have your information, please?" He asked it politely, but there was, of course, menace in it._

_"What for?" she asked, giving him a stink eye._

_"I'm considering a suit for the emotional discomfort of you continuing to feel me after you've already frisked me twice. What's your home, cell, and pager?"_

_The color drained from her face and she allowed him to put on his shoes and hat, and quickly stuffed all his stuff back into his backpack. "Um…have a nice flight…" she said, eyes trained on her shoes._

_Smirking, Dominic, who was now Fredward Benson, walked into the airplane and sat at his seat, which was, fortunately, first class window. Sighing, he was thankful that there were only ten others in the first class seats, and he closed his eyes while the rest boarded. Half an hour later, he was awoken by the pilot via intercom._

_"Hello, ladies and gentlemen. This is your captain speaking, and I would like to thank you all for choosing Interstate Flying. The flight trip will be about three hours till Seattle, Washington. Have a nice flight. Flight attendants will begin to hand out beverages and food to first class after we reach a cruising altitude. Thank you."_

_Fredward grinned, leaning back and looking through his bag. He had plenty of cash, but most of it was hundred and fifties. Searching through stacks, he finally found a couple of fives and ones and took those out and pocketed them. It was going to be a nice flight, he thought as the plane taxied off the run way._

Freddie showed Spencer and the girls how to make the napalm in the booze bottles, and he grabbed one and popped it open, tasting booze for the first time in almost two years. Damn, he missed it. He had always been partial to the unique taste of shit beer, for some odd reason. He went out to third floor and looked down from the iCarly studio, trying to calm himself and taking a look out.

He stayed that way for ten minutes, slowly losing focus. _Damn it, _he thought. _Two years of no alchohol and now I have the tolerance to it like a five year old with a fifth of vodka! _Someone gently touched his shoulder and he whirled around, reaching for the gun that was in his waistband. But it was only Sam, and she hugged him.

"What's up?" he asked gently, hugging her back.

"We're done making the Molotov's," she whispered, burying her face into his shirt.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently.

"Are we ever going to come back to Seattle?" she asked. "Do I have to leave my crazy mom or even my douche stepdad?"

"No," he said firmly. "I'm going to relocate you guys to somewhere else, like Florida or Europe. Even your parents."

She nodded, but still looked like she had a slight problem still while she chewed her bottom lip.

"What else?" he asked.

"I don't know what to call you anymore," she admitted. "Are you Dominic or Fredward?"

He shook his head. "I don't know anymore. After this, I might be a Spencer Pucket, or a Sam Shay." He shrugged. Sam smiled.

"So why did you choose Fredward?" she asked. "It's such a god awful name!"

"The Doc that saved my life? He was a Vietnam vet, and his named was Fredward. So I took his first name and mixed it with my aunts last name to come up with Fredward Benson."

"So what's your real last name?"

"Ericson," he said. They looked at each other for a moment, and suddenly Dominic realized that they were leaning in for another kiss. They gently touched lips, and Sam looked like she was in heaven.

Suddenly, there was a crash and screaming Spanish words.

"Fuck!" Freddie said, then gestured towards Sam. "Stay here and hide!"

Sam obeyed, and Freddie took off down the stairs. As he made his way down the stairs, he counted six Mexicans. _El seis amigos, _he thought. He took out both guns and counted the bullets. He watched the hit men begin to go for Spencer, who was protectively egging his sister.

_You have to focus, Dominic, _he remembered Jason saying when Jason had begun to put him through a military like gun training. _See your target, see where your targets gonna be, and shoot for there. Lead the son of a bitch. Always aim for the ear, the eye, the neck, or the nose. Chest shots are easy, but doesn't too often put a big ass guy down fast. Most two hundred pound people can gets shot in the fat eight times before they go down. So go for the harder shots._

_Go for the harder shots. Mental picture._

Freddie leaped out from hiding, silently running behind the target. Spencer saw him and his eyes went wide, making two of the gangsters turn. Both got a single bullet in the eye and went down. The sounds of bullets spraying from the end of a bullet began to make them turn and Freddie took the rest of easily. Breathing heavily, he dropped the guns and almost fell to his knees. Concetrating so hard on 

something that wasn't tech gave him a head ache. He felt something cold and heavy lean on the back of his neck and he immediately went down on his knees hands up.

"That's right, bitch, get on yours knees," the person with the shotgun said in Spanish.

"Fuck you," Dominic said, also in Spanish. He leaned backwards, grabbing the barrel and sliding the pump action back right as the gunman pulled the trigger, barely missing the primer of the shell as it flew out. Leaning foreword, Dominic yanked the shotgun out of the Mexican's hand and swung like a professional batter at his knees. The man cried out in pain, swearing in Spanish. Pushing the pump forward, Dominic stood and pointed the shotgun's muzzle at the mans face.

"Please…no…have mercy…" the man pleaded.

Dominic thought for a moment, taking the shotgun away from the man's neck.,

"_Gracious," _the man cried.

"Tell José that I'm coming for him. From now on, it's my rules." Dominic replied in Spanish. In English, he said, "Get out."

The man obeyed instantly and limped out. Freddie sunk to the floor, completely drained. _Fucking booze, _he thought, his head rolling limply on the spine, like he had just boosted heroine.

"Oh God! Freddie!" Carly cried out, rushing from her brothers protective arms and rushing towards the fainting Freddie. Spencer leaned down and started to gather the handguns, shoving them into his backpack except for one, which he found the safety and stuck in his pocket. He looked up and saw that Freddie (or Dominic? Awww, damn it!), had managed to get onto his feet and could stand on his own, though Carly stood protectively right next to him. Sam rushed down the stairs and almost took Dominic (or Freddie? What the hell?!) out with a giant running leap-hug.

"Sam!" Freddie managed to gasp. "I…can't…breath!"

"Oh, my God, sorry!" she exclaimed. Suddenly, she noticed that she was taller than Freddie, and looked down to see that she was standing on a large, dead Latino. "Holy shit!" she leaped off onto Freddie, who caught her like Shaggy caught Scooby.

"Oh my God!" Freddie gasped. "I can't get a moment to breath?!"

He put Sam on the ground gently, then shoved a dead _Mexicano _off the couch and collapsed. He closed his eyes and rested for a bit while the rest of the group stood and watched him sleep, waiting for him to awake. He did so twenty minutes later.

"Wow, stalkers…" he mumbled as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and got up. "We need to get going. Spencer, did you pay for all of your parking tickets yet?"

"Um…no?" Spencer replied shyly, looking at the ground and playing tiddlywinks with his thumbs.

Freddie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We have to stop at the police department first. Then we can get some tickets and get out towards Montana."

"Montana?" Carly asked, taken aback. "Why not Florida? Or somewhere…cooler?"

"One," Freddie said. "That's where they would look first. And two, my old friend lives like a hermit out in Montana."

They grabbed their stuff and quickly made their way out to Spencer's van, which had another parking ticket on the windshield.

"Goddam it!" Spencer declared angrily, grabbing it and shoving it into his pocket.

Freddie reached into his bag and asked, "How much do you owe the fine city of Seattle?"

Spencer, once again, looked down and looked embarrassed. "Um…a thousand six hundred and-" he paused and looked at the ticket he had crumpled into his pocket. "Uh…ninety-six."

Freddie shook hi s head and handed Spencer a small wad of hundreds. "Drive us to the police station, pay your fines, and we can make it to the air port without getting pulled over."

"What if we get pulled over going to the police station?" Sam asked, making Freddie sigh once again.

"Sam…please. If we get pulled over before we can make it to the police station, we're fucked. How's that?"

Sam nodded like that was what she was expecting. "Well, let's get a move on, people!" She declared.

Spencer stuck the key in the ignition and started the car. Putting it in drive, he tried to move forward, but only made it about half an inch. "What the duce?"

Freddie hit his head against the furry headrest and gave a short, tired laugh. "They lock-bared your tire!"

"Oh, is that the red thing across the hub?" Carly asked.

"Call a cab. Tell them to pick us up at the park. Let's go."

They made the short jog to the park in ten minutes and the cab was parked on the side, waiting for them. Freddie took the front seat, and the rest stuffed themselves into the back. For some reason, Spencer was in the middle.

"Um, can I trade someone for a window seat?" he asked, to which everyone replied, "No!"

"Take us to the air port," Freddie said to the driver, who was an African American woman who seemed to be overly happy that she was driving them. "I'll pay you a tip as big as the fee if you can get us there in twenty minutes."

They were there in ten.

**A/N: Pulled this out of my **_**ass. **_**If it's any good tell me via review. Chapter Seven should be out by day after tomorrow, maybe. Also, thinking about changing the name of the story. I don't know what to, but we'll see.**


	7. Chapter 7

_The plane touched down in Seattle at ten thirty that night. Dominic had slept for about an hour before waking and ordering an Italian soda, resisting his instinct to grab some vodka. As he exited the airplane and entered the terminal, he saw that his mother had done as he had asked. He saw a huge banner with the words FREDWARD BENSON on it, and underneath was the psycho looking aunt that he had only seen twice in his life, on both occurances when he was only six. Thank God she wouldn't recognize him, he shuttered, thinking twice about what he should have done. Maybe he could just rent a Hilton for five years…they did have those long term suites that came with daily room service…he shook his head. A thirteen year old with endless money living alone might be what the Mafia would be looking for. Silently, he wished he had just dealt with José, but he trudged foreward, going slightly to the side and pass his crazy aunt and grabbing a Coke at a Dairy Queen that was right behind her. Draining it, he gave himself another refill and went to the bathroom, ordered some fries and McDonalds, and only then (and after another Coke) did he finally meet up with his aunt, whom looked at him and began to cry._

_"Oh, Fredward!" she said, crying and collapsing on him._

Fuck, _he thought as he was almost dragged to her car and drove to the apartment complex that must have been an upgrade from when he had last seen her. What have I gotten myself into?_

Freddie was driving while the rest slept in the rented Prius. He had stopped at a gun shop that didn't ask for proof of age or parental approval to pick up a few things, then a gas station to take a leak and pack up on alcohol. Knowing Jason, he would need plenty of booze to keep him from killing José that night.

Spencer stirred in the passenger seat. Freddie looked at him for a second, then eyes darting almost directly back to the road. Damn elk and antelope and deer.

"What's going on, Fred-o?" Spencer asked groggily.

"Got another few hours till we get there," Freddie replied offering Spencer a bottle. He took it and popped the top, throwing it on the floor. About half way through the bottle, he declared, "Jesus, my tolerance is low,"

Freddie laughed. "Try being used to a vodka in the morning, then moving to Seattle, the wettest city on earth. Water, water everywhere, but not a fifth to drink."

Spencer laughed quietly, draining the rest of his beer in what Freddie guessed was an attempt to show that he was man enough for one beer.

"Save the bottle," Freddie said. "I have a feeling that Jason and Henry are going to want them for the future."

Spencer nodded, putting the glass container carefully on the floor. He looked up and asked Freddie, "So, these kids that were your friends…well…if you were into computer hacking….what were your friends into?"

Freddie smiled. "Everything. Jason had been in boot camp since he was five until his militaristic father died in Iraq, first day that Bush signed the order. Henry had gotten into the gun thing from his dad, who was only a hunter. Which I guess his son did become a hunter…of sorts…"

Spencer nodded, his booze clouded mind taking a second to process the information so that his intoxicated self could understand it. "He's a hitman."

Freddie nodded. "One of the best in LA. Of course, only a few know about him. He plans on going full scale once he turns twenty and has a few more jobs under his belt."

"What's his kill count?" Spencer slurred.

Freddie turned to him and then again had to dart his eyes to the road to prevent a possible four legged mammal hit and run. "What the hell? Kill count?"

"How many…" Spencer had to stop and think of the word. "People…peoples…persons…guys…girls…little dogs…has he killed with the…thing?"

Freddie rolled his eyes and silently scolded himself for giving an emotional underage person a beet. "Last time I heard two years ago, he had seventy six notches."

"Notches?"

"You know…notches in the stock of the rifle? It's from _Red Dawn. _That one guy-" But when Freddie turned, Spencer was already in an alcohol induced lullaby and was snoring gently. Checking in the rear view mirror, he saw that the girls were still asleep, even while he turned south of I90 onto a dirt road and silently had a party that he only had about fifty more miles until he was at the farm.

When the Shays and Sam opened their eyes, they were parked in the middle of a well kept green lawn near a house that also seemed well kept. There were three huge, silver silos that sat next to each other, fields, and of course, a giant red barn that was only about a hundred feet from the house. Almost as soon as they had opened their eyes, a guy about Sam and Carly's age with longish, untidy blond hair jumped off the roof and rolled on the ground, laughing as he got up and walked passed the car. Another guy their age, with shorter, darker hair popped his head out the window, yelling and laughing. All of a sudden, the blonde dude started to yell and run.

"Ow, fuck! Dammit, Dom! Stop it! I get it! Fuck!"

Freddie was on top of the roof with a real looking sniper rifle in his hands. He was laughing as well as he shot another round off. There was a small pop that no one had noticed until they were focusing on it and the blonde guy screamed, clutching his ass and limping behind that car.

"Fuck you, Dom!" the blonde guy said, risking to pop his head and middle finger up from behind the safety of the car.

"Better keep that finger behind the rental, or I'll plink it off, Jason!" Freddie called, grinning, but handing the air rifle down to the other guy, who had to be Henry and climbing down and rolling off the roof. As he walked passed the rental to go make peace with his long time friend in crime, he noticed that his Seattle friends were awake.

"Yeah, your friends are awake!" Jason said, getting up and looking at his ass. "The ones you wouldn't shoot at with a fucking supped up air rifle." He gave Freddie a friendly shove then knocked on the window of the car. "Come on out. No ones gonna shoot _you." _He gave Freddie a look, then grinned. "You're an ass. I'll get you back. Remember that." He turned back towards Carly and Sam. "And if you'll excuse me, ladies, I need to check if I have a Raptor pellet in my left ass." He bowed and limped off into the house, leaving Freddie laughing.

"So…" Sam asked, as amused as Freddie. "You shoot people in the morning with air rifle?"

Freddie grinned. "We were playing quarters and he lost. Henry went and got the air rifle…"

Carly rolled her eyes, not as impressed with the display as Sam or Spencer. "So it's not your fault that you could cause that nice kid an ass infection?"

Freddie started to laugh even harder as did Henry. "An ass infection?" Henry called down, grinning. "Should I suggest that be what Jason look for? Can you describe the symptoms?"

Carly blushed deeply, and Freddie smirked, grabbing her by the shoulder and leading her towards the house. "Hey, Henry, why don't you get down here and introduce yourself?"

Henry obliged by rolling out the window and landing on his feet right in front of Carly. He turned his fall into a bow and took Carly's hand and kissed it. "Hello, there," he said in a perfect southern drawl. "My name be Henry Hancock. Please, don't give me no shit about it, I've had to put up with it my whole life." He smiled.

"Henry, in light of his particular hunting hobby, thought that he required to know a bit of parkour in order to help get away from what might be hunting him." Freddie said with a straight face. "Why don't you give us a little demonstration?"

Henry obliged with a double donkey Kong over the hood of the Prius and a wall flip on one of the brick pillars that decorated the porch. He landed and back flipped, twisting through the air so that he once again faced Carly in a bow. "Madame," he said, taking her hand once more. She giggled shyly.

"Why don't you two go get to know each other." Freddie suggested, gesturing towards the house.

"Of course, Dom. You always know what to do. That's why your boss." He escorted Carly inside in the old southern Civil war manner, turning his head a mouthing _Thank you! _Before opening the door for Carly and stepping in.

Spencer turned to Freddie, unsure of what just went on in the last three minutes. He was, of course, still trying to wipe away the evidence of what could be a very mild hang over off, but he was doing a bad job 

at it considering his staggering and fuzzy mumblings. Freddie grinned. "You'll get used to it," he said, grabbing his bag and heading into the house. Unsure of what else to do, Spencer grabbed his bag and ran up, trying to keep up with Freddie.

Just fifteen minutes later, Spencer was the only one surprised to find himself out in the field with a shotgun in his hands and clay disks flying in front of his face. "What the hell?" he screamed, shooting at them and falling on his ass in the process. Jason and Freddie rushed over, along with someone he hadn't met yet.

"Oh my freaking God!" Spencer yelled, dropping the shotgun and rubbing his shoulder. Freddie and Jason laughed, and so did pretty much everyone except the new guy, who checked out the pretty much immediate bruising with care.

"Not too bad," the guy said, getting up and wincing at the firecracker pops that his knees made.

Freddie seemed slightly concerned. "Damn, Doc, got old in the last two years?"

Doc apparently thought this was funny and laughed along. "I think your friend is having some kind of minor hang over."

"After one beer…almost ten hours ago?"

"My tolerance is…low…" Spencer said, falling again into sleep.

Freddie rolled his eyes and picked up the shotgun the Spencer had dropped. Pushing the action forward, ejecting the shell, then pulling it back, he said, "Pull." While he was still walking to the spray painted white line in the grass where Spencer had been pushed back a decent ways by the 12 gauge. The clay pigeon screamed in front of his face and he shot at it, dead center, completely destroying it and sending chunks and fragments everywhere. "This is two easy, plus shotgun accuracy is retarded," he said. "Let's move on to sniper school."

Freddie laid the shotgun down on the egg foam that was spread on the table and picked up a .270 Winchester bolt action. "Everyone who knows what they're doing get over on this side," he said, gesturing towards his sides. Carly and Sam were stuck facing the three guys (and Spencer, who was leaning against the tree sleeping).

Jason snatched the rifle away from Freddie and began to fire off questions. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to the magazine.

Carly looked completely shocked at this way of teaching, but Sam immediately responded. "Magazine."

"And this?"

"Bolt."

"This?"

"Muzzle."

"This?"

"Back reticule."

"This?"

"Barrel."

Jason turned to Freddie with a shocked look on his face. "Dude, I think I just jizzed my pants. Your girlfriends is hot _and knows the parts to a fucking rifle."_

Freddie just smiled. "What till you see her in hand to hand combat."

Jason backed away from the girl in particular, a scared look on his face. "Fuck, dude. Keep this hot-yet crazy- bitch away from me."

"I want her closer to me, anyway," Freddie said, stepping forward and kissing Sam.

**A/N: I don't really know how this chapter turned out. If it sucked, sorry. I'll try to make it better on the next one. Um…it seems that whenever I write **_**bitch **_**in a story, and refer it to a fictional female character, I get flames by feminist groups that find that offending, so I would like to say something if that is the case: FUCK YOURSELF. Feminism, when it applies to real life scenarios, is fine and I agree with it to an extent where it isn't man hating, but when you hate me for referring to a fictional female as bitch, that's just trying to run me over with your menstrual cycle. And I'm pretty good at dodging that, so yeah…sorry just a little rant. Needed to put that out there. Sorry if it offends. GO FEMINISM (to an extent…). But as for polygamy and incest…NO. LOL. Alrighty, bye guys.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Dominic shifted in bed slightly, measuring how much Sam moved when he did so. Judging that she wouldn't awake if he got out of bed, he did so, moving slowly and carefully. He stood and stretched slightly, bending over and searching for his jeans. After stubbing his toe on the night stand and pausing a full thirty seconds to make sure he didn't awaken his partner, he slid them on and slipped out of the room.

The lights from the kitchen and dining area sent a faint glow against the walls of the hallway, aiding his travel to the kitchen table. A single, hanging bulb glowed over the table, casting light on Henry and Jason's faces. Before them, on the table, lay an area of weapon, their respective magazines laying next to them and fully loaded. Jason lit a Black and Mild as Dominic sat down, then offered him one.

Dominic accepted the cigar, taking it out the indivual wrapping and smelling it. "Wine?" he whispered. Jason nodded and tossed a book of matches on the table.

As he lit the Black and Mild, Dominic nodded at the table and asked, "Is that all of it?"

From his breast pocket, Henry produced a folded piece of paper and began to read from it. "Two 9mm compact Glocks with two back up magazines each. One Remington 12 gauge with tactical stock and extended magazine. One-"

Dominic cut him off. "I just need the Glocks, the .270, and the SCAR. That and a couple flash-bangs and frags."

Henry sighed. "Are you sure you don't want back up? I mean…Jesus Christ, dude, you're going to-"

"I am." he said, adding sternly, "Alone."

Dominic picked up one of the handguns and inspected it. He gestured at the holes drilled into the barrel. "You drilled these right?"

Jason nodded. "Nothing I haven't done a thousand times before. Should be silenced as well as an external one, and the fucker won't blow up in your face."

Dominic gripped the car with his teeth and he inspected the holes, admiring his friends work. Taking a drag and inhaling, he nodded as he exhaled the smoke. "Good work. Great work."

Henry began, "I really don't like the thought of-"

Dominic nodded, and it was enough to silence his friend. "I'll be fine."

"You're not even going to say good bye to Sam," Jason commented, dragging his cigar.

Dominic didn't comment as he began to slide the magazines into their respective weapons. Finally, as he layed the assault rifle down, he said, "I don't want her to worry."

"She's going to worry either way," Doc commented. He stood in the doorway, a bottle of Guiness in his hand and a Camel Wide parked between his lips. He took a drag and moved towards the table, sitting down stiffly and wincing as his hips cracked from the action. "You're choosing the lesser of two evils. Just make sure that you come back alive."

"I always do," Dominic said, shaking his head. "I have to end this." He began to slide the rifle and the SCAR into a duffle, wrapping each in foam padding before laying them next to the other. Doc watched him and drank from the bottle, sighing slightly.

Dominic slid on a shoulder holster, putting one of the pistols in and wrapping the other in foam and laying it on top of the two rifles. He zipped up the back and looked at his friends. "I love you guys…no homo."

Jason had to stifle a laugh. "No homo."

Doc rolled his eyes and puffed his cigarette, gesturing at Dominic. "Listen, Dom…don't do anything stupid. Try to take out as many of them as you can with the scope before you go in full force. Henry, did you drill the rifle?"

Henry nodded, adding, "Just the .270, though."

Doc nodded back, "Doing that on a fully automatic is plain fucking retarded, anyway."

Dominic shouldered the duffle and went to the door, slowly sliding it open to minimize the noise. As he stepped out of the house, he looked back at his trio of friends. "'And shepards we shall be,"

"For thee, my lord, for thee." Jason said, Henry joining in on the next part. "Power has decended forth from thine hand, may our feet swiftly carry out thy command. And we will flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be." They said the Latin ending, all three of the teenagers making guns with their hands and making a shooting motion as they finished.

Dominic chuckled. "I love the fucking Boondock Saints."


End file.
